Chapter 27 Fairy Lights
Dr. Klein sat back, hands folded loosely, his tone steady. "Trust is one of those words people throw around like it's simple. But trust is not instant. Even when the mind logically understands, the heart lags behind. That lag is where most couples stumble."
She glanced between us. "December, you've said you know Ryder was acting from fear, not malice, and yet, your self-esteem took the hit. What happens inside you in those moments?"
I twisted my fingers in my lap. "It's like... I know he wasn't trying to hurt me. But when he said those things, it pressed every button I already had. The old voices. The ones that say I'm not enough, I'm disposable, and knowing logically doesn't erase how it felt. It still aches."
Klein nodded slowly. "That is very common. The brain knows, but the body remembers. Ryder, what about you? What happens inside you when you feel close to danger?"
Ryder's jaw tightened. He exhaled through his nose. "Reflex. I flinch. I shut down. Even when I know Dec isn't her, my body still reacts. It's like it doesn't trust the evidence yet."
Dr. Klein leaned forward, her voice calm and steady.
"Good. That's the heart of it: trust isn't built only by logic.
You can both tell yourselves the other isn't going to hurt you, but that won't erase what your nervous system has been taught to expect.
Trust is built through repeated safe moments, one on top of another, until your body starts to believe what your mind already knows. "
She glanced at us in turn. "Ryder, you know December isn't your abuser, yet your body still flinches.
December, you know Ryder never meant to hurt you, but when he hid the truth, it triggered old wounds that whisper you're not enough.
Both of you understand the truth intellectually, but your bodies are lagging behind. That's the work we're doing here."
Her tone softened. "That's where the exercise comes in.
It's called The Daily Check-In. Every night, before bed, you'll take five minutes.
Each of you will share one feeling you had that day, just one, even if it's small.
Then share one thing you appreciated about the other person.
No interruptions, no problem-solving. Just listening, just receiving. "
She folded her hands. "It sounds simple, but it creates safety. Your nervous systems begin to expect honesty and care in these little windows. Over time, those daily deposits rebuild the foundation of trust."
I nodded slowly, pressing my palms together in my lap. Ryder met my eyes, and for the first time in a while, his looked less guarded. We both nodded. Maybe five minutes a day could be the start of something bigger.
The following week, I came home from work expecting the usual, Ryder tinkering in the workshop, Margot fussing over her rabbit kingdom but instead, a pickup truck sat in the driveway.
I froze. "What is this?"
Ryder lounged against the truck, trying way too hard to look nonchalant. "It's a truck."
I narrowed my eyes. "Obviously. But whose truck?"
"Technically mine," he said, then grinned. "Except, it's actually yours."
I just stared at him. "Very funny. Why would you buy me a truck? You know I haven't driven in over ten years. I hate it. It overwhelms me. I'm not doing it."
He grinned like he'd just told the world's best joke. "Come on, it's not that scary."
"Not that scary?" I echoed, widening my eyes. "Ryder, the last time I drove, I nearly sideswiped a mailbox, a squirrel, and a very innocent bush—all before lunch!"
He laughed, leaning casually against the truck. "That's exactly why you need me. I can teach you. Slowly. Patiently. With minimal bush casualties."
I crossed my arms, tapping my foot. "I don't think any amount of patience can undo a decade of terror stored in my driving muscles. I have fear memories now."
He smirked. "Fear memories are exactly what we're going to overwrite. Driving can be freeing, Dec. Trust me?"
I folded my arms, suspicious. He grinned. "Just on this for now."
The first lesson was a disaster.
"Okay, ease off the clutch—"
"EASE OFF?! Ryder, there's a TREE!"
"The tree is fifty feet away!" he laughed, one hand on the dashboard for dramatic effect.
I glared at him, knuckles white on the wheel. "If we die, I'm haunting you."
"You already haunt me. In my dreams, Ven" he teased, winking.
"Ryder!"
He chuckled, but his voice stayed calm, patient. "You're doing fine Ven. Breathe. I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen."
''Who the hell is Ven?'' I yelled.
By the second day, I was slightly less panicked. By the third, he'd added a vase of flowers on the dashboard "for aesthetic motivation." By the fourth, a tiny rabbit figurine sat on the console, Margot's gift, apparently.
"Ryder," I muttered, laughing despite myself, "This is turning into a traveling circus."
"That's the point," he grinned. "If you're laughing, you're not afraid."
Three evenings later, he knocked softly on my door.
"Dec?"
I looked up from my book. "What?"
"Come outside. I've got a surprise."
I frowned. "If this involves driving anywhere, the answer's no."
He laughed. "No driving. Promise. Just... trust me."
I hesitated, then slipped on a sweater and followed him out.
The sun was just beginning to sink, painting the sky in gold and rose.
Parked in the driveway, the truck had been transformed into something out of a movie—blankets piled in the bed, fairy lights strung along the rails, and a basket of food waiting for us.
I froze. "Ryder..."
He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shy. "It's not a date if you don't want it to be. But... it can be. If you want it to be."
My throat tightened. "It's beautiful."
He helped me climb into the back, then settled beside me, opening the basket to reveal homemade sandwiches, fruit, even a bottle of sparkling juice.
I turned to him, overwhelmed. "You did all this?"
He nodded, eyes fixed on mine. "Yeah. I wanted to tell you, I appreciate everything about you. Your kindness, your smile, your ideas... your eyes. All of it, Ven."
My heart thudded hard, painfully sweet against my ribs.
He reached for my hand, his voice low but steady. " I love you December. I trust you, and I hope, someday, you'll be able to trust me too."
Under the glow of fairy lights, in the back of that ridiculous truck overflowing with flowers, rabbits, and way too much hope, I realized how much I wanted that as well.
He didn't look away, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"There's one more thing," he said, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Tomorrow... there's a local fair. I've planned everything—rides, food, the works. Cotton candy, funnel cakes, bumper cars... even the kind of silly prizes you can't help but laugh at when you win them."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Really?"
He shrugged, "Yeah... I just... I want you to have a day that's pure joy. No worries, no fears, no past nonsense. Just us, laughing until our cheeks hurt, riding the Ferris wheel until the world looks tiny beneath us. I want you to remember what it feels like to be utterly, completely happy."
I felt my throat tighten, warmth pooling in my chest. "That... that sounds incredible."
If only I had known how the fair date would end I would have clung to him tighter. I would have kissed him with every ounce of desperation in me, kissed him like I could burn the shape of his mouth into mine forever.
I would have told him everything I kept locked inside—that this date, this night, was a gift I never thought I'd have.
That the string of lights above us and the way his laughter wrapped around me felt like some impossible miracle.
I would have told him I loved him without restraint, without fear, without waiting for the right moment.
But I didn't know. I didn't know fate was already weaving its threads tighter, pulling us toward an edge I couldn't see.
If I had known, I would have begged the loom of the world to stop, to leave him safe in my arms a little longer.